Hope
by blue peanut m and m
Summary: He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him there, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough? Teenchester.
1. Chapter 1

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him there, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . I have know idea where this came from, or where it's going, it just struck my muse as interesting so my fingers did their typing thingie and this is what was created.**

He ignores the rain that's falling steadily from above, plastering his hair to his head, the long strands falling into his expressive eyes; rain that has seeped through his worn and threadbare clothing, chilling the skin underneath, skin that is stretched taut across his thin and frail body. He can see lights on in their latest home, the warm amber glow seemingly inviting, a place to rest and get away from the cold and wet, yet he knows better, knows what really lurks behind the shabby moth eaten net curtains. He moves his sneaker clad feet slowly towards the light even though every bone in his body is screaming at him to run, the worn down soles offering little resistance against the broken pavement, sharp stones penetrating easily past the thin rubber to bruise and cut at the tender flesh of his feet.

He pauses at the pathway to his home, his mind still torn, should he enter, or should he flee? A grim laugh escapes from deep inside him as that word is thought of again, home, why did he even call it that when it was never one in the first place, his home was somewhere else, with someone else, people who loved him and cared for him, not treated him like he was something bad they walked in, not treated him like The Man did that first night. . . . . . . . . . . . . He shook his head as memories assaulted his mind, he didn't want to think back to that time, didn't want to relive that day again. Instead he took a deep breathe hoping to steady himself and slowly walked up the overgrown pathway towards the rotting front door with it's peeling paint and lop sided numbers. His hand trembled as he reached for the handle, his mind unable to quench that little bit of hope that maybe today would be different, that maybe today things would be how they were supposed to be, that maybe today They would come back for him, save him, but as he turned the knob and pushed the sticking door open, smells penetrated his senses and that little bubble of hope shattered and burst.

He stepped quickly through the gap as soon as it was wide enough, closing the door firmly, yet quietly behind him; if he could only make it across the hallway and up the stairs maybe he would have a chance, maybe he could lock himself in his bedroom until all was calm again. Stealth born from years of training had him standing at the bottom of the stairs in seconds. He treaded lightly up the first few steps, the shattered spark of hope slowly seeping back together and mending, he could do this, he could make it and maybe today would be different. He stilled as he heard movement coming from the living room, grunts and shuffles of a heavy body moving across the rough fabric of their couch. He panics as he thinks The Man is awakening, his training forgotten as fear begins to take hold. He forgets the loose step, forgets the loud shrill squeak it makes when ever weight it placed upon it, the noise freezing him in his tracks as his foot bares down upon the warped wood.

Other noises refuse to penetrate his mind until it's too late and The Man is upon him. He tries, he really does try to get away, to get his body to move faster. He runs up the rest of the stairs, willing his body to make it to the sanctuary of his room, almost believing he has made it as he slams the door behind him; but he's just not quick enough and as he stretches for the chair, the rest of his body thrust up tight against the door, he feels The Man's weight crash against the thin barricade. He battles hard to keep the door closed as his fingers try desperately to grip onto the chair, but it's no use, The Man has more weight and as the door is slowly pushed inwards alls he can do is retreat and surrender. He pushes his thin body into the small gap between his bed and the wall, as tears slowly start to mingle with the rain water that's still dripping from his locks, trying to make himself as small a target as possible, trying to make himself disappear; but The Man always finds him. The blows are hard and accurate, painful yet not life threatening, aimed for places that can't be seen. He whimpers with each hit, but knows not to cry out; to cry out would mean the punishment would continue long into the night, and the hits would increase in strength, something he had found out to his cost his first week of staying here. Instead he cowered, lay there and took, and as vicious words left The Man's mouth, prayed for his family to come find him, family he was slowly forgetting.

**A.N. . . . . . . . . Okay so I'm gonna do something I don't normally do and ask for feed back, is it worth carrying on with this? As I said it was just something that struck me and as of yet I don't know where to take it, so to hear that you would like me to carry on would be a boost. Thanks as always for reading, will catch you soon, Peanut x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . Well the response was an overwhelming vote to carry on and I'm never one to displease so here's chapter two, I can only hope that you enjoy this one just as much, Peanut x**

As a new day was gradually beginning to break, it's pale light filtering through threadbare curtains illuminating the peeling wallpaper and broken furniture, he woke up. Agony radiated from every inch of his body, The Man's anger had been slow in abating, his hits sloppy towards the end, his rule forgotten as his rage rose. He knew he wouldn't be attending school today, his escape for a few hours from this life, knew that The Man would make up some excuse to keep him away. He also knew he would have to be extra quiet today, knew that if he was to be heard he would be punished again for just being there. He slowly rose, no sound permitted to leave him even though he so desperately wanted to cry out as he peeled his broken body from the drying patch of blood that had begun to harden on the dark carpeting. Using the more sturdier parts of floor close to the wall he made his way to the small closet, dropping carefully to the floor, his small fingers pried back a loose skirting board and cautiously picked from behind a small tattered piece of glossy paper. He smoothed down the wrinkles lovingly before turning it over and staring at the image imbedded upon it, the memories of family life might be fading, but as long as he could remember faces, names, he knew he would never truly forget.

He placed the photograph on his lap as he tugged out one of the loose nails from the board, lifting up the edge of a damp loosened piece of wallpaper he etched in yet another line in a sequence of lines. He looked back along the set and started counting, fifty two small lines in bundles of five, one for each day he had been here in this house, beside the lines another number was etched sixty four, how many lines he had etched in other houses before this one. One hundred and sixteen days since he was taken and left with The Man. He had long since given up hope that his family would find him and take him away from here, a big part of him happy at that knowledge as it meant that at least they were safe. The Man's threatening words of the harm he would do to his brother, to his father if they ever found him had been enough for him to make him stay with his persecutor, enough to make sure he was never found, enough for him to become a ghost almost, slinking through each day, a master at invisibility, there but not. He knew if anyone were to ask his classmates about him, the responses would be a blank, the way he needed it to be if he was to keep his family safe.

He looked longingly back at the photo once more, a small part of him aching at the want he felt for the loving arm to be placed back around his shoulder, the arm that spoke of safety, and love, and home. He looked into the eyes of his brother, the one he was protecting more then anyone else, and hoped that somewhere he was happy, and safe, and loved; and that somehow he had forgiven him for what he had done. A lone tear trickled down his bruised cheek as he thought back to the last time he had seen his brother, a shudder running through him as he remembered what he had done, but it had been the right thing to do, and if he were offered the choice again he would never hesitate to make the same decision. He brushed the tear away angrily, he had to keep his emotions schooled and hidden, it didn't help and if The Man were to bare witness to them he knew from past experience how he would react, instead he pushed the wall paper back into place, and brushed kisses upon the photograph before replacing it back in it's hiding place.

He dressed quickly, pulling on the rattiest clothes he could find, he wasn't going anywhere today and there would be no point in ruining more decent clothes if He got mad at him again. He washed his face and brushed his teeth as quietly as possible, running little water into the bowl for fear of waking Him up. He couldn't go to school, and he had to try and stay out of the way, but he still had to feed The Man and do his chores; he just hoped that he could do it quickly and quietly, and The Man would still be drunk enough not to hear. He made his way back down the stairs, remembering this time where the broken, creaky treads were, pausing at the bottom and groaning as he heard snoring coming from the main room of the house, he had hoped He would have crashed upstairs making his chores easier to do. He stopped as he turned to go to the kitchen, his eyes wistfully looking at the front door and the escape route it offered, his hand automatically reaching out for it only for his brain to kick in and pull his limb back in, it would do no use to escape he would be found, and the retribution would be fierce, it had been the previous two times. No, he had to keep his brother safe and to do that he had to stay, so he turned away and made his way into the kitchen.

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . So how was it? Who is it? Thanks as always for stopping by to read, will be back soon with chapter 3 which will hopefully be longer, catch you later, Peanut x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . Now that I've started this fic, it will not leave me alone, so here's a treat for you, an update sooner than expected. I'm so thankful for the response it has received, believe me when I say I wouldn't be getting the chapters out as quickly without it. As always thanks for reading, and enjoy. Peanut x**

He stumbled over an uneven paving stone as he dragged his feet back towards the house, two weeks had passed since the vicious beating he had received for the crime of making a noise, of existing. After a week away from school The Man had deemed him fit enough to return, had deemed his bruises faded enough to pass inspection, the phone call from the principal helped too, The Man fretting that people would be sent round to investigate his absence if he was to stay away any longer, fretting so much he had decided to move once more. He'd spent the last week catching up on what he had missed, even though he knew they would be moving, but it was yet another requisite of The Man that he kept his grades above average, punishment followed any time he didn't pass with at least a B, punishment for daring to bring notice to himself. He didn't mind the extra work, didn't mind working through recess and lunch breaks, at least he was out of that house, at least he was away from Him, and at least it kept him away from the other mindless idiots who no matter how hard he tried he couldn't always hide from, mindless idiots who thought it was the end of the world if their parents bought them a shirt with the wrong symbol on.

He turned down an alleyway between two storefronts, that was a shortcut to the ramshackle house The Man called home, his feet dragging all the more as he tried to prolong his return, but he knew he couldn't stay away much longer, knew that he would only anger The Man if he was too late, knew that his brother would be in danger if he failed to return before a certain time. Picking up his feet he hurried a bit faster, hoping that The Man had decided to join his friends Jim, Jack and Jose for a final goodbye before they left, and he could escape to his bedroom, lock himself in and pack up his few meager belongings, and his precious photograph. He kicked at a crushed up soda can that lay in his path as he wished for the life that others at school had, but it was a small price to pay if it kept his brother safe.

Thoughts of his brother choked him with emotion, and raised tears to his eyes. It had been so long since he had seen him, so long until he had smelt a smell that was his alone, a smell that could always bring a smile to his face, a smell that he doubted he could ever forget. So caught up in his thoughts, he missed the sound of the person who followed him down the dimly lit passageway, his mind caught on getting back to the house. He dodged around spilling over garbage cans, and suspicious streams of liquid and carried on his journey. Only as he approached one of the big dumpsters did he falter, the hairs on the back of his neck rising, something was amiss. He looked back over his shoulder, spotting the man immediately, fear churning his stomach, he had to get back to the house. With that thought in mind he ran.

Caleb dared not to hope as he followed the pale, slim and modestly dressed figure down the alley, too long had they been looking, too many times had their leads turned out to be false, too many times their hearts broken. The call that had changed all their lives had come too late for them to save the boy from the fate decided for him by people deemed experts, The Man having broken the rules, taking the boy and fleeing as soon as he could, running and evading them ever since, for once the big bad hunters were unable to track down their prey; but this time it looked as though they had finally done it. He looked towards the boy, the hair was longer, the body thinner, the posture defeated, but he was sure it was him, sure that their search was finally coming to an end. He paused as he watched the boys gait slow; watched as he cocked his head to the side as though listening, before he turned and looked straight at him; watched as he saw fear register; watched as he bolted. No! They couldn't lose him again, not after it had taken so long to find him. He watched as the boy ran, prayed that his phone call had been in time, rejoiced as his friend stepped from behind the dumpster, his large frame easily encircling the boy and crushing him in a long waited for embrace. He covered the rest of the distance quickly, his voice asking the same question over and over again "Is it him? Is it him?" almost sinking to the floor in relief as the gruff voice of his friend answered "Yeah. Yeah, it's my boy. It's my boy." He wanted to smile, wanted to shout out loud with relief, but something was wrong.

He ran as fast as he could, the need to get away from this stranger, the need to get back to the house, the need to save his brother growing with every second. Why had he been so stupid? Why had he dawdled when he knew what The Man's reaction would be if he was late? Why had he taken this route? He could hear the strangers footsteps behind him, getting closer with every stride; could see the end of the alleyway getting nearer and nearer, if he could just make it there he knew he would be safe. He didn't see the other man step out from the shadows of the dumpster until it was too late and he was captured in strong arms. He struggled with all his might, tried to peel the muscular limbs away from him, he had to get back, he had to return to the house, if he didn't his brother would pay for it. He cried and begged and pleaded to be let go, but the strangers hold only intensified.

He heard the first man ask a question, his fear riddled mind numbing the words spoken so that they didn't register, but the answer came through loud and clear, and the voice that spoke it sent shivers down his spine and only increased his struggles all the more. No! They had to leave. How could they even be here? How could they have brought such danger upon his brother? He kicked and bit and scratched, trying all the more to break free. Tears streamed down his face, his brother would be punished if he didn't return, and these men had brought him closer. He finally found his voice, managing between sobs to whisper out one plea. "Please, please leave me here. I have to get back to the house. He'll hurt him if I don't. You have to leave, you shouldn't have brought him here. Take him away, keep him safe. Please, please just let me go." His struggles abruptly stopped as the voice he had so longed to hear spoke once again.

"Dean, son I will not leave you here. I will not lose you again. Who are you talking about? Who should I take away?"

Dean looked incredulously at his Father before answering with words that chilled John's heart. "You have to leave me, he'll hurt Sammy if I don't get back, he said so, and now you've brought him closer to danger. You have to leave me and get Sammy away from here." Dean pleaded, his eyes begging for John to understand, but what he got was a look of pure confusion, and what he heard in return very nearly unhinged him.

"Son, I don't have Sammy with me. We hoped he was with you."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Okay, you can all hunt me down now if you would like! Sorry about the cliffy twist, but it had to be done. Will be back soon with chapter 4, let me know what you thought, catch you soon, Peanut x**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Okay, so I'm a little bit behind in replying to reviews because this damn writing bug has struck and I can not leave this fic alone, I did figure though that you would prefer a new chapter so I made getting one out my main priority. For now all I can offer is a massive thank you to all that read last chapter, without all of your feedback this fic wouldn't be. As always thank you so much for reading, and I hope that you enjoy chapter 4 as much. Peanut x**

Pain. Confusion. Heat. Noises. Hands. He woke in stages, each time to a different feeling. Where was he? What had happened? He tried to open eyes that felt like lead, tried to move limbs that were uncoordinated, tried to word sentences that came out raspy and choked. He panicked, air seeming to become so hard to breath, cloying and thick and impossible to choke down. He could hear a high pitched screeching and tried to latch on to the noise, tried to use it to ground him to this place, but the pain was intensifying, and the pull towards the darkness was a greater comfort; so he relented, turned towards the blackness and started to shut down again. A voice. A voice began to break through, stopping his descent on the cusp. A voice that urged him to awaken. A voice that warned him of the danger. A voice that promised that the pain would ease. A voice that implored him to remember. A voice that sounded scared, and worried, and fearful. A voice that brought all the memories crashing back, memories of what had happened, of where he was, and of what he had left behind, fourteen and ten, blond and brown. So he turned back, willed his body to obey his commands, forced his eyes to open, his frame to rise, and his voice to cry out. "Dean?. . . . . . . . . . . . . Sammy?"

Hands grabbed him and tried to restrain him, voices spoke of the damage he would create, of the hard work being ripped open, but he didn't care, his sons needed him. Questions rushed from his mouth. How long had he been here? What had happened? Where were his sons? Where were Dean and Sammy? The hands that were trying to calm him, stopped as they heard his pleas. They knew not of what he was talking about. He focused on the man in white, the leader, his questions falling from his lips in a haste to quell his fears and gain the answers he needed to hear. But all he gained in response was a churning of his stomach as the man's words sunk in. "Found by deer hunters. . . . . . . Bear attack they think. . . . . . . . . Desperate need of medical attention. . . . . . . . . . Seventeen days in a coma." He ignored the rest of the man's words, his pains now forgotten as he demanded a phone be brought to him. He brushed off their pleas that he rest, and started to move his aching body from the bed, cries of "my boys are alone, my boys are alone" falling from his lips. He pushed aside hands that tried to grip him, hands that tried to push him back, his fists flying, connecting with one of the faces as the need to speak to his sons increased, his fears for their safety heightening. He flinched as the needle struck home, turned angry yet tormented eyes his assailants way as the liquid flowed through his system, warm and calming. As his eyes once more began to fall, and the blackness he had fought so hard to run from once more beckoned, he managed to whisper. "Caleb, somebody call Caleb, number in pocket."

He roused slowly to begin with, his mind and body sluggish like he was fighting his way through water. It was only as remembrance hit that he fought all the more harder to awaken, voices arguing angrily breaking through the haze the more he became aware.

"Get his damn papers ready! As soon as he is awake he's leaving."

"But Sir, I have to protest. He's not recovered, he could relapse. We only did what we did for his own safety."

"He wont care about his own damn safety when he hears about his children. If you hadn't have drugged him, I might have been quick enough to get to them. And believe you me, once he finds out what's happened, you really don't want to cross his path. So get the damn papers ready now."

He tried to speak, the loud mans words sparking fears within him, fears for something he couldn't quite remember, his words though stuck in his throat as his dry mouth refused to cooperate. He licked at his lips hoping that the movement would help, and tried again.

"Caleb?" It must have worked, as the argument ceased and a shadow crossed over his closed eyes.

"Johnny? You awake? C'mon man you need to open ya peepers for me. Ya boys need ya."

Those four words were all that he needed to hear for all the memories to come flooding back. "My boys. Caleb, where are my boys?" He forced his eyes open as no response was forthcoming. Fear causing him to ask again, "Caleb where are Sammy and Dean?"

Caleb looked at the doctor who was slowly slinking from the room, he sighed deeply before answering. "I don't know."

"What! What do you mean you don't know? Where are Sam and Dean?"

"The nurse that called me told me they were hurt too Johnny. Not badly." He added when John turned ashen before him. "Dean was knocked out, so the damn doctors were able to get to Sam. They saw scars they didn't like and called CPS, Sam must have gotten scared cause he gave your real name Johnny. Once Dean was awake he was questioned too, I guess they mustn't have liked his answers. They called Jacob, John. He came and took them."

"No! Not Jacob, anyone but him. We have to find them. We have to go and get them back."

"Johnny."

"Caleb he's dangerous. He's never gotten over Mary's death, he was like a father to her. He could hurt them."

"Johnny."

"What if he has already? What if he's started to harm them? We have to go to his house now Caleb."

"JOHNNY!"

"WHAT?"

"They're not there."

"What do you mean?"

"They're not there. I checked already. He was supposed to stay at his address, was supposed to keep in contact with the CPS, but he's run John. He's run and he's taken the boys with him."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . Okay so you now know the back story, and the boys ages, and who has them, but where is Sammy? Jacob is a character out of the comic books who I've borrowed. In the books John pushes a dying Jacob in a car over a cliff, but I'm taking a bit of artistic license and keeping him alive, well for now anyway. Will be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . I'm still over whelmed by the response that this fic has received so far, thank you so much. As always thanks for reading and enjoy chapter 5. Peanut x**

Little feet scurried across the stone floor, claws scratching against concrete with every minute step, the sound piercing and harsh to his over sensitive ears. A brief passing of flesh covered bone trailed across his bare toes, yet he remained as still and quiet as a statue, like a hunter awaiting it's prey, his hands poised ready to strike, to grab the meal. As a wet nose began to sniff at his foot, he struck, his hands finding the rat with ease in the pitch blackness, his small hands killing the creature effortlessly, his stomach growling loudly at the thought of nourishment once more being placed inside it. He brought the creature up to his face, his mouth opening ready to feast, but the last tiny beats of the rats heart stopped him. He couldn't do this, as hungry as he was he couldn't do this. He threw the meal to the far side of his prison, his hands covering his ears and a silent scream leaving his lips as he heard miniscule bones break as the rat landed. His eyes burned as his emotions raced, but no water was left to fall, instead he crawled over to the worn, filthy and tattered blanket strewn across the cold stones, and lowered his frail, soiled and painfully thin body to the floor, his eyes closing and his body shutting down. Sleep, that was the only thing he could do to pass the time, maybe this time he wouldn't wake again.

Wake he did though, sounds breaking through from above. He scurried over to the wooden stairs, pressing his frame as far underneath them as he could go, he had to hide, he had to be quiet, he couldn't be noticed, he couldn't deal with the pain again, but even worse he couldn't deal with the blond haired boy getting hurt again. He knew he should remember his name, he knew he was special to him, but his mind was broken and fragmented, and the memories inside confusing. He thought sometimes that the boy was here with him, protecting him from The Man; thought sometimes that he could hear the boy whispering "be strong" and "that everything would be okay" But if that was the case where was he now? At other times he thought he hadn't seen the boy in a long time, that he had been deserted by the boy, left alone here with The Man; but how could that be if he was special to him? His hands pulled at his greasy, knotted hair, trying to get his fractured mind to work, to remember, but fear and hunger and desolation were a powerful combination, and know matter how hard he tried he could remember nothing.

He froze as he heard the padlocks clash loudly open, his breathing faltering as he listened to deadbolts slide and grind open. The creak of the door echoed throughout his prison, bouncing off walls and attacking his sensitive hearing time and time again. He mewled into the crook of his arm as large feet crashed down onto the treads above him, sending years of dust, cobwebs and spiders raining down upon him. He waited for The Mans voice to boom out as the large feet reached the bottom, waited for the demands to "come out" to reach his ears, waited for the threats of pain against himself to be spoken, or even worse the threats that the blond haired boy would be hurt if he didn't step forth. But this time was different, this time The Man used a new trick. White hot agony ripped it's way through his skull as the powerful spotlight was shone straight into his eyes, mute screams tore their way from his throat as the light aggravated his cave blinded eyes and sent waves of pressure reverberating around his skull. His body curled upon itself instinctively, his knees digging painfully into his sockets, his arms clamping around his head, anything to keep the agony at bay.

He felt hands grab him, but could do little to stop them pulling him free from his hiding place, as he fought against the pain and nausea that raced throughout him. He flailed blindly as he was thrown across the room, his eyes clamped tightly shut trying to keep out the light that still managed to penetrate past his lids. He didn't feel the pain as the rough stones ripped and tore at his flesh as he landed, didn't utter a word as his shoulder landed awkwardly and popped from it's socket, didn't hear the words The Man spewed forth; didn't understand their meaning. Words that spoke of "being late," and "not coming back," and it "just being you and me now boy." He'd learnt long ago not to listen anymore, learnt long ago that the man's words, promises, meant nothing; only threats against the blond haired boy were to be listened too, even if by obeying them caused him so much pain and torture, it was better that it was him that received it.

His hands instinctively moved to his sides as blow after blow rained down upon him, his stick thin limbs trying their best to protect his body, but this left his head at the mercy of The Man, and The Man's attack was swift and accurate, rendering the boy senseless with one thundering punch. He lay their willing his head to clear, or for the blackness to take him under, the former winning the battle as a new noise reached his ears; a noise that sent fear coursing through his body. He tried to move away as The Man dragged the box towards him, tried to scream out a protest of being a good boy, but the pain prevented him from getting very far, and his screams were nothing but muffled noises. He cringed as The Man reached for him, his mewls of fear intensifying as he was picked up with ease and dropped harshly into the wooden confines, the boxes lid slamming shut above him. His fingers raked at his pine enclosure, the frail nails breaking as he fought to tear his way out, blood seeping slowly from broken skin to mingle with the stains already coating the lid; but his efforts were useless, and after a while all he could do was shut his mind down to prevent the creatures he imagined in the dark from attacking him once more, and wait until The Man deemed fit to release him once more.

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Okay, so I've been attacked by the flu yet again, so I'm feeling pretty crappy and I'm not sure about this chapter at all, so I would appreciate your thoughts. Will be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . I'm still over whelmed by the response that this fic has received so far, thank you so much. As always thanks for reading and enjoy chapter 6. Peanut x**

"Dean! Dean! Son, what did you mean get Sam out of here? Why did you think he was with me?" John asked again, after he realized no answer would be forthcoming to his first try. He'd watched as his eldest had withered at his words, what little color his boy had draining as realization set in. Just what had gone on? Just what had the boys been through? Just where in the hell was Sam? He pulled Dean closer, his face burying itself in his sons hair, a frown crossing his features as he smelt the cleanliness that emanated from him. What the hell had been happening? What had happened to his boys whist they had been away? Different scenarios had ravaged through his mind after he had been told of their abduction, yet all of them had a similar thread running through them pain and hunger; yet here was Dean looking as healthier than he ever had, if it wasn't for the faded bruise that was almost healed, John would have figured everything was fine; well the bruise and the fact that Dean still tried desperately to get away from him. He was pulled from his thoughts as Dean began to mumble incoherently, the words muffled and rushed together, repeated over and over again. He turned his boy around and gently lifted his chin so that he could hear better, his heart breaking as he took in Dean's heart wrenching sobs and finally registered his sons words.

"He promised. He promised. He promised. He promised."

"Who promised, Dean? What did they promised?"

"He promised. He promised. He promised. He promised."

Knowing he was getting nowhere, John knew he would have to try another way to get the answers he needed, he had one son safe in his hands, now he needed to get his baby boy back. "Dean, I need you to focus son." He ordered, forcing his son's face up so that their eyes were locked. He repeated his order again as Dean continued to mumble, and tears still dribbled down his checks. He pushed his son's too long bangs out of his face, shaking him slightly to gain his attention, and repeated the question one last time, thankful when at last his words seemed to break through. As his son withered once more into the comfort of his chest he softly spoke.

"The Man promised."

"Jacob? Jacob promised? Promised what? Dean what did he promise?"

"Promised that he would send Sammy back. He promised, Dad he promised."

"Why would he do that Dean?"

"Cause I said I would stay with him if he did. I promised that I would stay if he sent Sammy back. I watched them leave Dad, I thought that Sammy was going back to you, I swear it Dad. I thought he was going back to you."

"I don't understand, why would you do that? Why would you believe him? Why would you leave Sam alone? Why would you stay?"

Seeing what John's words were doing to his son, Caleb stepped in and placed a warning hand on his fellow hunters shoulder. Crouching down to Dean's level, he waited for the boy to look at him before he asked. "Start from the beginning Dean, tell us everything that you can remember. You may not think it's important, but it could lead us to where Sam is."

"I woke up in the hospital, it was dark and I was alone. I asked a nurse where Sammy was when she came in to check up on me, she told me he was in a room down the hall. I wanted to see him but she wouldn't let me. I waited for her to leave and went looking for him anyway. Dad, he was so scared. They'd tied him to the bed, and he was cryin', and beggin', and screamin' but nobody would help him. I tried to get him free, I really did Dad I promise, I was gonna get him out of there and make our way somewhere safe like you always told us to, but a stranger came in before I could and stopped me. Then The Man appeared, I remembered him, I thought he was a good person, I asked him why Sammy was restrained, he waited for the stranger to appear before he told me. . . . . . . . . . . . ."

"He told you what, Dean?"

"He told me Sammy was dangerous, that it was Sammy's fault Mom died, that tying him up was for his own good, that I had to be saved from you and him. I attacked him, managed to get a few good punches in, but it was no use. They must have drugged me, cause the next time I awoke we were no longer in the hospital. Why did they let us go with him Dad? Why?"

"He lied Dean. He told them he knew of a place that could take care of Sam, and the staff believed him and after the judge agreed they let you both go with him. I'm so sorry son, I'm so sorry to have put you in harms way to begin with." Caleb stepped in again as he watched both Dean and John become emotional, there would be a time for tears later after Sam was found.

"Dean, what happened next?"

"When I woke up next we weren't at the hospital anymore, we were in a strange house. I could hear Sammy crying, so I went to go look for him, but the door to the room was locked. I tried every way I could think off, every way that you had taught us, but I didn't have the right tools, I couldn't get it open, I failed him Dad, I failed him. He was crying so hard and I wasn't there to protect him." Sobs tore through his body as all the memories he had been pushing back flooded his mind as his spoke, he tried to control his emotions managing to do so as his missing brother's face entered his mind. He scrubbed a hand across his face, and cleared his throat before speaking again. "The Man came later that day with food and drink, I was so hungry I almost took it, but with the door open I knew that this would probably be my only chance. As he placed the tray on the dresser I attacked, I managed to daze him and ran for the door, but he recovered quicker than I thought." Dean stopped talking, his head bowing down to his chest as though ashamed. "Sammy paid for that attempt, The Man opened his door and I thought he was gonna let us be together, instead he chained me to the radiator and made me watch as he tore into my brother. Dad he really hurt him, and he shouted out bad things at Sam, swearing at him, blaming him for Mom, calling him a devils child, and I could tell Dad, I could tell Sam was believing him."

"I started trying to get Sam to look at me, to concentrate on me. I told him everything would be okay. How could I lie to him like that, he's gonna hate me so much. I started shouting at The Man, when that didn't work I begged and pleaded, swore that I would stay with him if he let Sam go. The Man took notice of me then. He let go of Sam and he promised me, he promised me, he would let him go, that he would take him back to you. I watched them leave, Dad, I watched them leave, one hundred and sixteen days ago I watched Sam leave. I tried a few times afterwards to get back to you too, but he always found me, beating me and threatening Sam, so I stayed."

Dean stopped talking again and moved his face so that he could look into his Father's eyes, the sorrow emanating from them shattering John. "Dad, where's Sammy?"

Wishing he had the answer to ease his son's mind, but knowing he couldn't lie to him John replied. "I don't know son, but I promise you we will find him. Is there anything that you have missed? Anything that you can remember from when you moved around? Anything about the houses you stayed in?"

Dean thought back, wracking his brain for any memory that would help, yet more tears falling as he seemed to draw a blank. The houses were normal and came furnished, which made the moves they made easy as they didn't have to lug anything except their few belongings and The Man's precious. . . . . . . . . . . . .

John watched as Dean face blanched of color once again. "Dean son, what is it? What do you remember?"

"The Box."

"What? What about a box?"

"Every time we moved there would be this box. He wouldn't let me help him with it even though it seemed heavy, when we arrived at a new place it would always be placed in the basement. He never allowed me to go down there. There was always locks on the doors. What if Sam was in the box? What if he never left? What if I could have helped him and I didn't? We have to get back to the house, we have to hurry. He was planning on leaving again today."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . I hope that you enjoyed. We'll be back to Sammy next chapter I promise, please bear with me though as I'm still a little off at the moment so I'm not writing as much. I will try my best to be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . I'm still over whelmed by the response that this fic has received so far, thank you so much. As always thanks for reading and enjoy chapter 7. Peanut x**

Caleb hadn't waited, the minute he had heard Dean mention the box he had figured out what had been happening. He'd stood quietly and taken off at a run unnoticed by either Winchester, a gnawing feeling unsettling his stomach, a gnawing feeling that he had to hurry, he could only hope that John would understand, he had to get to Sam, he had to stop the boy from disappearing once more, something deep down telling him that if Jacob got away this time then they would never see Sam again, and that was something he knew John and Dean could never live with. Hell even he doubted he could ever come back from losing Sam, the little boy with the bright inquisitive eyes and the smile that could brighten even the darkest day, he'd stolen Caleb's embittered heart the moment he had peered from around his brother's legs and looked up at him cautiously, the youngster ascertaining from that one peek that Caleb was a man to be trusted, and believing in him from that moment on long before either John or Dean let down their walls.

As he ran down the alleyway and into the street towards the house they had found out to be Jacob's, Caleb's mind wandered. Just how bad were things going to get? Just how bad of a shape would Sam be in? Just what traumas had the boy been put through that Dean didn't know about? He had to believe that Sam was still alive. Had to believe that the fact Jacob still had the box meant he still had to move Sam. Caleb's mind wandered, his thoughts turning dark, turning towards how inhuman Sam's treatment had been, turning towards how traumatized his young friend must be, turning towards the fear that they would not be able to fix him after what he had been through; but just like he had to believe Sam was alive, he had to believe that they could also fix him. He slowed as the house appeared, now was not the time to rush in unprepared, now was the time for stealth, Sam's life depended on it.

He pulled out his gun and snuck past the van parked in the driveway, it's back doors standing open, and peered inside a part of him hoping that the box would be there, but it wasn't the large interior only held a few small cardboard boxes and a couple of suitcases. Jacob had to be inside, and hopefully Sam too. Cautiously Caleb walked forward using the shadows of the van and house as cover, he crept up to the front step and tested the door handle, thanking the gods and then cursing them as the door creaked loudly open, he could only hope that Jacob was preoccupied and didn't hear the noise. Once wide enough he stepped quickly through the gap and into the house, his steps faltering as scuffling could be heard coming from beneath his feet, he could hear a man shouting, Jacob was still here and maybe, just maybe so was Sam. He swore as another sound hit his ears, the sound of a wooden lid crashing down. Forcing himself not to rush, Caleb slowly eased forward again aiming for a door that was swung open, and the blackness that lurked behind it. He crept down the stairs, begging with each footstep for the tread not to creak, he should have known his luck wouldn't hold out.

John turned as Dean began to pull himself up, looking for Caleb's help in dealing with his teenage son, surprised and yet not, when he found his friend had gone, he must have figured out what was happening and gone ahead after Sam. He pulled himself up and ordered his son to slow down, to think things through, when he witnessed his words having no affect, he changed tactics. "Dean, calm down, do you want to risk Sam being hurt again?" He watched as his son slowed to a halt at the end of the alleyway, watched as his shoulders slumped down, knowing he had hurt Dean but feeling he had no other way. "We need to tread carefully, we can't risk Jacob getting away, Caleb has gone on ahead and you know he would rather die than lose Sam. Now come on, let's go bring your brother home."

Following the route Caleb had taken minutes earlier, John and Dean made their way to the house, passing the van and entering through the font door. Dean tensed as he stepped into the hallway memories flooding back into mind of all that had happened here, and all that he had failed to do. John placed a calming hand on his son's shoulder before they both made their way quietly towards the stairs that led to the basement, he wanted to rush straight down there and grab his baby into his hands, but he knew that to do so could cost his son dearly. Cautiously he stepped forward and started making his way down the dark staircase, his heartbeat increasing but his pace never quickening as he saw the beam created from a flashlight, Caleb didn't carry one John knew that, so it had to belong to Jacob. He stood there shocked as his eyes finally adjusted to the gloom and he witnessed the scene before him.

Caleb sat on the stone floor of the basement, his knees drawn tightly up to his chest, behind him lay the box that John had to presume Sam had been kept a prisoner inside off. "Caleb? What's happened?" John asked as his friend refused to look at him, just staring off into the black void behind where John was standing. "Caleb? Where's Sam?" John tried again when he got no answer to his first questions. He moved closer as the younger man continued to stare blankly ahead, tilting the mans head so that his eyes met his own. "Caleb, please, what happened? Where's Sam? Were you too late?"

Caleb fought to loosen the blockage in his throat, fought to keep back the bile that wanted to break free, fought to keep the tears that burned his eyes from falling, failing at all three. John could only crouch there in shock as he watched his friend crumple before he stumbled to the side and heaved, something bad must have happened, something that concerned Sam, was he. . . . . . . . . . . John couldn't bare to think that.

"Caleb, please, is Sam. . . . . . . . C'mon man your scaring Dean and me. What's happened to Sam, please tell me?"

Managing to control himself, Caleb wiped his mouth on his sleeve before attempting to answer. "I'm sorry John."

It was Dean's cry of distress at Caleb's words that told the man his words had been misinterpreted, knowing he had to make things right he added. "Dean I'm sorry I wish I could have got here sooner." He watched again as his words were twisted and Dean's crumpled even more. He cursed himself for his stupidity, turning to John he spoke again. "John he's alive. I'm just sorry I didn't get here sooner. He's under the stairs."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . I hope that you enjoyed and I'll be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . I'm still over whelmed by the response that this fic has received so far, thank you so much. I'm so sorry that I haven't replied to the last reviews yet, I've changed my shifts at work and haven't quite got into the hang of the new ones yet. I am so very thankful for each and everyone of them though. As always thanks for stopping by and reading, Peanut x**

John turned to look under the wooden stairs he had just minutes climbed down. Seeing nothing in the gloom he routed around in his pocket for the small flashlight he always carried, his fingers fumbling in his worried state to find the button to switch it on, he needed to see his baby boy was alive with his own eyes, Caleb's arm though stopped him before he could switch it on.

"John, leave it off."

"What?! Why?" John asked, he just wanted to find Sam, grasp him up and leave this place.

"He's been living in darkness for so long now John it's affected him. He screamed this horrible muted cry when I switched on my light and tried to see him." He beckoned John closer before adding. "It's bad John. From the little bit I saw of Sam, it's bad. I don't think Dean should see him just yet."

John mulled over the younger men's words. He known deep down that there was a chance he would find his boy's like this, but judging from Caleb's posture, and the fact he didn't want Dean to see his brother, it had to be much, much worse than he could have imagined. He nodded his assent before turning to talk to his eldest boy, panic racing through him as in the dim light Dean was nowhere to be seen.

"Caleb! Where's Jacob? Dean's gone, where is that sick son of a bitch?"

"He's behind the box. He's out cold John, he can't have gotten to Dean."

"Then where is he? Where's my son?" John shouted, starting for the stairs, stopping as he heard whispers coming from beneath the wooden planks. Turning on his light, but making sure to point it a different way, John crouched down and look into the crawl space beneath the stairs, his heart clenching at the sight that befell him.

Dean was sat on bended knees, his body blocking from sight what John presumed was his youngest son. In the dull glow of his flashlight John could see Dean's arms reaching out as though beckoning for someone, his voice calm and barely a murmur as he pleaded with his brother.

"Sammy, it's me Dean. Come on now, it's over, it's all over. Come to me Sammy."

John brushed away the wetness that began to accumulate on his cheeks as he listened to his sons pleas, guilt at allowing his boys to be placed in such a position racing through him, questions forming in his mind, question that all ended up sounding the same tune, why had he let the hunt take priority over his sons? He knew though that now was not the time for him to lose himself in his feelings, he had to place his sons first for once. Creeping slowly over to his eldest John softly spoke.

"Dean, son, is your brother okay?" At seeing Dean's shoulders slump and the minute negative shake of his head he added. "Can you reach him? Can you get him out of there?"

Dean shook his head again. "I don't know what to do Dad. I don't want to hurt him, but he wont listen to me, it's as though he's not there." Turning his head his eyes shone with tears as he whispered again. "I don't know what to do."

"Aww Son, come here." John beckoned his son into his arms, closing them around his shaking frame, offering comfort from their strength. "You'll know what to do, you'll figure it out, but not here, not in this place. I need you know to go over to Caleb for a minute. I'll get Sammy." He kissed his son lightly on his too long hair before pushing him softly towards the other hunter. Once he was sure that Dean was safe in Caleb's arms he turned back to the task at hand.

Years of training came to the fold as he crept silently towards where his youngest son was hiding. Allowing the glow of the flashlight to illuminate his way, yet still trying to keep the beam from causing his son pain, he bent even further down and looked deeper into the crawl space beneath the stairs, his mind at first wandering if Dean and Caleb had been imagining things as he failed to see his son; only as his eyes became more adjusted to the dimness did he finally lock onto the figure he had been searching for, his heart breaking once more at the pitiful sight that he witnessed.

Pushed as far back into the tight angle at the foot of the stairs, Sam lay curled into himself, his body pulled in so tightly as though to make himself as small as possible. Pale, stick thin bare arms were pulled tightly over his head, John unsure whether it was to protect himself from attack or to keep the pale light from burning his oversensitive eyes. In the gloom he could just about make out stringy matted hair that tumbled over his shoulders, could just about make out the tattered and filth covered boxers that hung loosely over boney hips, could just about make out the bruises that covered his baby boys waxen legs and the tears in the taut flesh of his arms.

He reached out, whispering words of reassurance and comfort, just wanting to get his son out of this hell hole and back into his arms; but all his words did was push Sam to retreat even more, his body pushing even further into the uncomfortable angle that John had no doubt he had to be hurting himself even more. He swallowed down a cry of despair as realization of what he needed to do hit him, he knew he had no choice, knew that there was no other way, but he hated the thought of what his actions would do to his youngest son. Grasping a hold of his son's boney arm he started to pull, tears falling as he had to listen to his son's unintelligible mute cries. He forced himself to carry on pulling even as his baby battled to get away, removing his son from the space he so desperately wanted to get back to, keeping up a steady stream of words in an effort to get Sam to realize he was safe, but Sam's mind was filled with only hurt and the knowledge of agony the room held.

With one finally effort John managed to get Sam free, pulling his son close to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around him, saddened with how easy that was to do. He still held on tight as Sam still fought to get away, his baby boy biting and scratching And kicking in an effort to get back under the stairs; but John refused to let go, continuing his murmurs of comfort, and stroking the bangs out of his sons face. Gradually Sam began to calm down, a fact that should have elated the older man, but John knew that it wasn't because his boy had recognized him, but because he had given up, resigned himself to what ever torture was to come, and that knowledge was what broke his heart completely.

With ease he stood up, cradling his passive son to his chest. Turning he beckoned once more to Dean. "Let's get you boys out of here. Caleb, lock that piece of crap in that box he loves so much. Secure him well, we'll deal with him later." Turning, with one child tucked safely against his chest and his arm wrapped protectively around the other, John aimed for the stairs with one thought in mind. He'd fought to find his children and won, could he now win the battle that lay ahead; the battle to bring Sam back?

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . I hope that you enjoyed, will be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . I'm still over whelmed by the response that this fic has received so far, thank you so much. As always thanks for reading and enjoy chapter 9. Peanut x**

John strode up the stairs effortlessly, his frail and much too light baby boy cradled tightly to his chest. He paused as he reached the top remembering that they hadn't driven here, that the Impala was still parked to the left of the alley entrance way, how the hell was he gonna get his sons away from this place, and back to a place of safety? Bile churned in his guts, and rose to his throat, wanting to escape as he realized just what he had to do. He had to subject his sons to even more terror. He had to use Jacob's van to get them away. He turned to his eldest son, his mouth opening to ask the whereabouts of the keys, but Dean was way ahead of him, his son holding out the bunch, his mind having already foreseen the same problem.

He got Caleb to drive them back, unwilling to leave his boys for a second, sitting with them in the back of the truck, one arm still wrapped tightly around his youngest, the other placed comfortingly across his eldest's shoulders, pulling him close to his side. As they drove he found his emotions in turmoil; anger at himself for being so stupid all these years, at Jacob for his treatment of his children; sadness and despair that his youngest still lay across his lap, that fear inducing blank stare still plastered across his features; that his usually cocky and so sure eldest now clung to his side, his fingers gripping his shirt for dear life; worry and fear that he wouldn't be able to fix this, that he would some how fail his sons yet again.

He felt his baby boy cringe and stiffen as Caleb pulled to a stop and opened the door to the back, allowing light to stream in from the streetlights and signs that were littered about. He tried to talk to him, offering him reassurances and comfort but it was no use, Sam was locked away in his own mind where pain and terror ruled and security and safety were things he had long since forgotten. He shielded Sam's delicate eyes as he clambered out of the van, and carried the youngster with ease over to the boy's only true home. Opening the back door he allowed Dean to crawl inside before relinquishing hold of his baby for the first time, his heart clenching as the warmth Sam created disappeared. Covering both boys with a blanket Caleb passed him, he placed a hand on both boys cheeks, saddened once again as Sam cringed away.

"Dean, I'll just be outside. I just need to talk to Caleb and then we will leave this place okay?" He could see the terror in his eldest sons eyes as he spoke of leaving them for even a minute, even if he was just gonna be a few feet away, but he didn't want to have his sons hear his next words, didn't want them to know what he was about to command. He turned away and pushed the door to, but refused to close it fully, beckoning Caleb to him the two walked a few paces down the road, making sure to stay within Dean's line of sight. Only then could John truly let his guard down and allow the mask his was wearing to fall, and his fears to come to the surface.

"What do I do now Caleb? Where do we go? How am I suppose to fix this?" John asked, for the first time in his life uncertain how to proceed.

"I don't know John, I wish I had the answers but I don't. Maybe this is something we can't mend on our own. Maybe. . . . . . . . . . . ." He trailed off, not wanting to speak what was on his mind.

"Maybe what?" John demanded.

Caleb swallowed, trying to find a way to say his words delicately, in the end deciding to just come out with it. "Maybe we need to take them to the hospital. There are experts there that know about these things, that can help."

"No! Damn it Caleb! No! I just got them back, there's absolutely no way I'm leaving them anywhere alone, and you know once they're admitted I wouldn't be allowed to stay, I will not leave them alone again, I can't take the risk of this happening again, I wont take the risk. I wont leave them, there must be another way."

"What about Bobby's?"

"No!" John replied harshly and much too quickly for Caleb's liking. Seeing the expression on his young friend face John added. "We had a falling out, he threatened to shoot me with buckshot the next time he saw me, he didn't like the fact that I was gonna take the boys on this hunt, funny thing is he turned out to be right, but I just can't take an "I told you so" at the minute."

"God damn it John! This isn't about you at the moment, it's about what's best for the boys."

"Don't you think I know that? I am thinking about the boys. How do you think it would help their recovery if they saw their Uncle blasting away at their Father?"

"Okay, okay, it was just a thought." Caleb thought some more, a smile gracing his lips as he thought of a solution. "What about that guy we saved from the Ghoul in Cincinnati, Farley, Marley. . . . . . ."

"Harley?"

"That's it! He said we could use his lakeside cabin whenever we needed it. It's secluded so we wouldn't have to worry about people, we could hole up there, but John this isn't gonna be an easy patch up; you have to promise me that if things don't improve we will seek help."

"Okay, but we have to try to do this ourselves first." Turning back to the car, John started to move as he witnessed Dean's fearful face staring out of the window at him. Pulling the door back open he clambered into the back seat beside his two sons, scooting the two boys closer to his side he whispered words; words that he hoped would offer comfort and prepared for the long car journey ahead, and the even longer recovery journey to follow.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but I knew it was going to be a bit of a filler so I wanted to stop here before we see just how bad Sam is in chapter 10. Will be back soon, catch you later, Peanut x**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . I figured that I better put a huge apology out here for my lack of responses to all your amazing reviews. Changes to my working hours, and the fact we're closing in on silly season mean I'm finding little time to even write a chapter. I do appreciate each and every review I receive though, they are, and always have been, the boost to keep me going, and I'm going to try harder to make the time to respond back, as an extra special thank you though, here's a very quick update. As always thanks for reading and enjoy chapter 10. Peanut x**

Arms surrounded him, increasing the fear that kept a constant grip of him. Pain registered and he tried to move without disrupting the hold, but knew he had no chance, forcing his body to stay still, forcing back the pain that stabbed throughout him, forcing the trembles that fought so hard to be released down. He didn't know where he was and that knowledge frightened him immensely. He knew he wasn't in the box, knew he wasn't in that dank and dark room with it's comforting, all be it quickly found, hiding places; so where was he? He needed to know, needed to find out, otherwise where would he go, where would he hide if The Man came back?

Thoughts of The Man, and the box, increased his fears, his heart thumping madly against his chest, and ringing loudly in his ears, hiding from him the cries that offered comfort. He tried to calm himself, willed himself swallow back the fears, but it only made things worse and the trembles he had been holding back broke free, wracking his too thin frame so harshly. He fought against the arms that held him then needing to get away from the punishment he knew he would garner for having the audacity to make a sound, a movement, believing for a second he had succeeded. The arms though were replaced by stronger, even tighter ones, the hands digging into his fragile flesh enough to leave marks, the embrace frightening him all the more, bringing mewls of protest from his lips as words he wanted so desperately wanted to form came out as little more than unintelligible, garbled sounds. He fought harder, used feet, and nails, and teeth, and even his head, as he battled to get away, knowing he would be punished all the more, but frantically trying to stave off another trip to his wooden coffin. It was no use though the arms were stronger, the embrace unbreakable. Shutting down, he gave up and fell still once more.

Two hours they had been driving before John spotted the sign for the lake Harleys cabin rested against, two hours and not a single sound, nor movement had been made by either of his boys. Dean still sat pressed up against his side, his expression changing between that horrible blank look John had witnessed earlier, or equally disconcerting, the look of sadness and guilt that aged his young features when ever he looked at his younger brother. As he thought about his youngest son, John found his eyes trailing over to where he lay wrapped tightly in blanket, Dean's arms encircling him, and he found his own guilt escalating, his own fears increasing. This wasn't the life he had hoped for his children, he'd wanted baseball games, and play fights, and camping for fun; not war games, and training fights, and roughing it whilst searching for their latest hunt. Dean shouldn't be feeling as guilty as he was, that was all his own fault; and as for Sam, John never thought he would see the day he wished he could hear his youngest son's twenty questions a minute, or his whining as he missed school so that he could participate in their quest. He wanted his little boys back, he wanted to take away their pain, take away their memories of what had happened, to give them back the childhood that had been stolen.

He noticed the change immediately, felt the tenseness increase in the back of the car, heard the slight intake of breath that Sam tried desperately to hide. He turned once again his sons way, noticing the stiff stance of his youngest, and the trembles that he was trying to keep at bay. He reached out at the same time as Dean did, words falling from his mouth as he tried to offer some form of comfort, but the words fell upon deaf ears, and all he could do was watch as Sam's battle to hold back his emotions crumbled, his baby shaking so hard John feared for his safety, gibberish sounds falling from his lips that John wished he could understand and reply too. He shouted at Caleb to "stop the car" as Sam began to fight, gently pushing Dean aside he pulled his son into his own embrace, his arm wrapping tightly around him, his hands pinning him to his chest hoping to calm him and stop him from hurting himself all the more, but instead creating even more desperation, and he could only hold on as Sam became violent and aggressive. He ignored the pain his sons feet, and nails, and teeth, and head created, knowing it was nothing compared to the agony and fear his son felt, instead he pulled him even closer and waited for the end, releasing the breath he had been holding as after a few minutes Sam began to quiet down, falling slack within his hold.

"Is he okay?" John heard Caleb ask from across the bench seat. Not wanting to risk his shaky voice just yet, John merely nodded in response. Brushing the bangs away from his son's head he placed a soft kiss against his skin and whispered reassurances he felt Sam would never hear. He stilled as he felt shakes through the leather seats of the Impala, and held on tighter as he thought Sam was going to relapse, berating himself after a few seconds when he remembered his other son was also there. He looked Dean's way, his heart breaking as his eyes witnessed his strong, too old for his age, teenage son. Sitting pressed as close as possible to the door, Dean presented a pitiful sight. Tears spilled down his cheeks from eyes that were wide and radiated guilt, his knees were pulled tightly against his chest, a chest that heaved with sobs, sobs that shook his frame. Reaching out an arm, whilst still tightly holding onto his youngest, John beckoned Dean closer, thinking for a second that his son would refuse, his worry increasing when Dean did the exact opposite and crawled his way into his Father's embrace.

As he heard Caleb start the car once more, John wondered again just how he could piece together the remains of his shattered children.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Will be back soon with more, Peanut x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . I'm so sorry for the long wait for an update, real life has not been kind to me this month and as a result my motivation to write has dwindled. Today I decided enough was enough and opened up the notebook for the first time, and found it's amazing how much stress you can release by doing this. Seeing as though I'm not allowed to work at the moment, updates should start getting back on track. As always thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoy, Peanut x**

John felt that he had made the right decision to come here as the big car left the shade of the trees, and for the first time saw the cabin that was to be their home, for how ever long it took to get the boys back to health. Nestled against the start of a dense forest the single storey log cabin seemed to him to radiate safety from it's thick wooden walls, whilst he knew that no expense would have been spared inside to offer the boys the comfort they now required. A porch ran the length of two sides, a gabled roof offering shade and protection, chairs dotted here and there so that the view could be admired. And what a view it was, the trees that had been used to make the building had been cut down from in front of it to offer an unobstructed line of sight straight down to the lake front, where a dock stretched it's way into the water.

He looked over at his eldest son, glad to see that he too seemed to like the idea of living here, yet saddened also as he noticed that the small smile he was wearing didn't come anywhere near to reaching his guilt riddled and world weary eyes. Reaching over he pulled his boy close and whispered softly into his ear. "It wasn't your fault Dean. We're going to beat this and become a family once again, but you have to let this guilt go son, it wasn't your fault." The words though, did little to ease Dean's conscience and John berated himself for even speaking them as he watched the smile his son had been wearing fall from his features, and felt him stiffen in his arms before pulling away from the comfort John was offering.

Without saying a word Dean pushed open the car's door, before reaching for his brother, taking the compliant boy from his Father's arms, resuming the rank placed upon him all those years ago, leaving John feeling cold and at a loss as he felt his babies turning away from him, yet knowing he had no one to blame but himself. He had made the brother's rely on each other, comfort each other, fix each other even when he had relinquished responsibility of his youngest to his eldest, now he had no idea of how to break into that close circle they had created, and help with the healing they both so desperately needed. Tears fell unabated as he watched his boys disappear from sight as they entered the cabin.

Dean had picked up his brother with ease from his Fathers arms, yet more guilt crushing his heart as he realized how frail Sam had become in the moths they had been separated from their Father. As he walked up the cabin steps to the door that Caleb held open for them, he knew he had hurt his Dad with his actions, yet couldn't find the heart to really care; he himself had caused Sammy this amount of pain, and he was gonna be the one to bring him back, he had to be, maybe then this pain he was feeling would start to mend also.

He ignored the living room and went straight to the bedroom, and the small bathroom that led off of it. Placing his non responsive brother on one of the two beds where he could still see him through the bathroom door, he set about preparing a bath aiming to fix one of his brother's problems straight away. After turning on the taps, and placing copious amounts of bubble bath into the water, Sammy had always like bubbles, he returned to his brother's side and started to undress him. The tears that had been drying, returning as he pulled off his brother's shirt and witnessed the destruction beneath.

John jumped as Caleb's knuckles rapped hard against the window he was leaning against. He sent a scowling glare the hunter's way, whilst at the same time admonishing himself for being sloppy and caught unawares. How the hell was he to fix his boys if he spent all his time drifting off? He pushed open the door and climbed out, stretching his back to release the knots that had accumulated there. Caleb watched and waited for him to straighten before speaking.

"You okay Johnny? You seemed to be miles away there?"

John considered lying and giving his standard answer of "I'm fine" something he had drilled into his son's also, but things needed to change if they were ever to come back from this, so instead he ducked his head, hiding his eyes from sight and replied. "I was miles away. I was thinking about how I let things get so bad. How I put the hunt before my sons. How I caused all this hurt and pain they are going through. How I don't know if I can fix this."

"We'll fix this John. Remember you're not alone in this, you know how much I love them boys, I aint leaving you to deal with this alone. We'll fix this."

"But what do we do? How do we fix this? I just tried talking to Dean, but it seemed to make things worse. How do I respond to that?"

"Keep trying, he'll come round. He has issues he's dealing with too, just keep telling him it wasn't his fault. Now come on, those boys have been alone too long, let's go see what they're up to."

Following the younger man into the cabin, John could hear the running water coming from the bathroom and made his way towards the sound. As they entered the room, both men were shocked to see water and bubbles overflowing the tub, Caleb running to turn off the taps, whilst John turned to see what had distracted Dean, his heart tearing as he witnessed his sobbing eldest sat next to his passive youngest, Sam's worn, torn and filthy tee in his hands, his eyes firmly fixed on his broken brother's form. Taking a look at that form, John realized what had caused Dean so much more pain. Sam's young, fragile skin was a mass of bruises, the colors varying from vivid blacks to sickening yellow, a testament to how much suffering his baby had been subjected to, and also to how long it had been going on. The rips in the flesh he had previously seen on his son's arms were multiplied on his torso. Deep. inflamed and vicious slashes cut there way through his son's tender skin. But it was the shape of his shoulder that caused John so much worry, the joint bulbous and irregularly positioned.

"He didn't utter a sound." Dean's small voice spoke out.

John tore his eyes away from his broken youngest and turned them Dean's way, after missing what he had said. "What was that son?"

"He didn't utter a word. He didn't cry out in pain, not even a whimper. I jostled him about getting the damn shirt of, and he just sat there and never flinched. How do we help him Dad? I don't know how to help him."

John's shattered heart broke even more as he listened to his son's tearful confession, and watched as his hopeful eyes turned his way. Both his son's were in need of his help, were in need of his love, but he too was at a loss of how to fix this. His son didn't need to see his dilemma though, his son needed to see him strong. Choking back his own emotions he fixed a smile upon his face and turned into the soldier he had once been, knowing that to get over this first hurdle he needed to be that way.

"We start by getting your brother's injuries treated. Go to the car and grab the kit son."

He watched as hesitation flittered across Dean's face, he didn't want to leave his brother even for a minute, but he was happy also to have a job to do. He watched as Dean took one last look his brother's way before fleeing the room.

"You did the right thing John." He heard Caleb say but didn't turn round, his eyes staying on his youngest, his lips whispering words he knew Sam didn't hear.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . Thanks for stopping by and for sticking with me, catch you soon, Peanut x**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Still no change in my not so great real life, I'm still hanging in a bit of limbo at the moment, unable to work and completely bored out of my mind at home, but I'm putting a brave face on things and trying to have a great Christmas anyway, and writing is helping even if it is still a slow process. Here's chapter 12 of Hope, enjoy. Peanut x**

Two weeks flew by with little to no change within the small Winchester family. Two weeks since John and Caleb had taken the boys from that living hell they had been placed in, and brought them here to Harley's cabin, hoping that the idyllic setting and the peace and quiet would be an asset in bringing back both boys from the living nightmare they were both existing in. But two weeks had done little to revert the damage Jacob had instilled upon them both. Dean still barely spoke, looked panic stricken all the time, and walked around with the heavy weight of guilt strapped firmly onto his shoulders. Whilst Sam. . . . . . . . .Sam just sat or lay where he was placed, and ate and drank and relieved himself only when you shouted at him to. John having to witness the fear etched all over his baby's features, and the shakes that wracked his frame every time his voice was raised, his own guilt rising along with his tone every time.

Both boys barely slept at all, both riddled with crippling nightmares that ripped them from their much needed slumber and had them cowering and shivering upon their beds; Dean's tears freely flowing, his cries gut wrenching, his eyes immediately searching out those of his sibling; whilst Sam forced his tears to cease, his cries were muted mumbles, and he immediately sort out the comfort of the smallest darkest place. He usually chose to hide beneath his bed, but this morning he had somehow managed to waken without alerting anybody else, to sneak past Dean and John's sleeping forms in the bedroom, and Caleb's in the lounge, and out the front door resulting in a frantic two hour search before they finally found him cowering and frozen under the front porch steps; the resulting pulling on his youngest child, to get him out from under the steps, sending John crashing back in time to that night in the basement when he had unwittingly pulled his boy out, using a shoulder he later found out to be dislocated; which then sent him back to when they had reset the limb, when tears had flowed down his own face, but Sam had stayed dry eyed and stoic, with that god awful far away stare, and not one flinch of pain moving his still and silent frame.

That had been the final straw for John, everything he had felt, everything he had been through since waking up in the hospital to hear his children had been given to that monster had culminated in a collapse of pure anguish. He'd sent the boys inside, having Caleb promise to look after them, whilst he had bawled, and sobbed, and cried his heart out, and wondered how in the hell he was going to fix this? How in the hell he was ever going to get his tough as nails little soldier back? Or his inquisitive and overly talkative scholar? God how he missed hearing their voices, hell he'd even suffer their childish fights, and their new found obsession with prank wars.

He looked to the skies, praying for answers, praying for Mary's guidance, praying for any help at all, his mind a whirlwind of emotions fear, doubt, guilt, sadness, all wrapped up nicely in a bundle of failure. He'd failed the boys all their lives, dragging them from town to town, city to city on his quest to become a better hunter, on his quest to find his wife's killer, never once thinking about what the constant moves were doing to his children. He'd failed the boys by taking them on a hunt he knew would be especially dangerous, and by allowing himself to get hurt badly enough that they were taken away from him. And now it seemed he was failing them once again. He had thought this retreat would have been a good move, a chance for the boys to mend and heal in a safe and quiet environment, how wrong could he have been. The boy's weren't getting any better, and he was beginning to think that they should have taken them to a hospital after all.

He started as the door opened behind him, quickly swiping at the tears that still fell from his eyes, as the slow and quiet footsteps that he knew to be Dean's moved cautiously towards him. As his eldest snuggled into his side, he placed an arm protectively around him and kissed the top of his still sleep ruffled hair, before asking.

"Hey Kiddo, I thought you were supposed to stay inside with Caleb and your brother?"

"I'm sorry Sir, I just. . . . . . . . . . . . ." Dean started but hesitated unable to spill what was obviously troubling him.

Scooting down to the bottom step so that he could be level with his son, John turned to him, his voice filled with concern as he asked. "What is it son, you can tell me." Thinking that he was ready for anything his son through at him, how could he have been so wrong. The tears he had quelled falling again as Dean finally broke past that barriers that held his words back.

"Please don't leave us. Please don't take us away from here. I'll try harder to get Sam to come around, I promise I will, just don't leave us at a hospital."

"Dean." John managed to choke out. "What makes you think I would do that?"

"I can tell that you're worried. I can tell you hoped that we would respond to this place, and I'm trying to, but please give us a little bit longer before you give up on us."

"Oh, son I would never give up on you or your brother. I'm just beginning to think though that I'm not the right person to help you, that both you and your brother need someone with experience in this sort of thing."

"You're wrong Dad, what we need is to be together. What I need is you and Sammy. What Sam needs is you and me. What you need is Sam and me. Only then will we start to put this behind us."

John watched as Dean wandered back into the cabin, and thought over his son's words, he was right alls they did need was each other, things would get tough, they would have to ride through many storms, battle through the ups and downs, but at least if they were together they would have someone to hold onto. Vowing to bow to Dean's wants, he started inside, he had two boys to start mending.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . As always thank you so much for stopping by and reading, will be back soon with more, Peanut x**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . . . Still not working so the creative juices have been flowing this week, which has resulted in an earlier than expected chapter update. I also have a new one shot that will be posted tonight, and another new one shot that is part of the secret Sam-at exchange over on CWESS, which will be posted over here on Sunday. For now, I hope that you enjoy chapter 13 of Hope. Peanut x**

John didn't leave the cabin and take his children to the hospital that day, nor the next, or even the next; instead he stayed, growing closer to them with each day that passed, more closer to them than he had ever been in their short lives. He held Dean each night, comforting him after terrors ripped through his sleep, consoling him after each bout of sobs, reassuring him everyday that none of this was his fault, that he shouldn't shoulder any of the blame. He talked to Dean, played with him, read stories, and stayed with him until he slept. Gradually as more and more days passed, the terrors and the sobbing lessened, and the heavy weight of guilt removed itself from around his sons shoulders, and a lightness that had been missing slowly began to return.

Everyday he sat in a darkened room with Sam, keeping his distance at first, yet letting his son know he was there for him. Everyday he inched closer and closer, gradually earning the trust that had been lost. He talked to him all the time, soft words and forgotten memories. He talked for the first time about his beloved Mary, and how excited and happy she was when she found out he had been conceived, how she felt her small family would then be complete, and how much she loved and adored him when he was born. He talked about Dean, and how proud he was to hear he was to be a big brother, how from day one he had put Sam before anyone and anything else, how he had shouted at his parents if they were being too loud, or asked visitors to back away if they got too close. He talked until he grew hoarse, or until he could see in the gloom his son's eyelids slowly close. It was almost two weeks before he noticed Sam's eyes begin to focus more; almost three weeks before he touched his child for the first time; just over a month before his baby's hand moved just a fraction to curl loosely around his own. But for John time was immaterial, and with each slow change his heart soared.

He sat beside the fire now, as the wind roared outside and the rain lashed against the small windows, and wondered how he could have ever thought about giving up. He looked over at his eldest boy, bundled under a quilt, sleeping peacefully upon the small sofa, and smiled a genuine smile. Moving his head slightly, he looked through the, always ajar, doorway and into the darkened bedroom that held his youngest, the smile growing as he thought about how strong his baby boy was. Turning back to the fire he allowed himself to be mesmerized by the flames, and for the first time in a long time, just allowed his body to relax.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, didn't know what had woken him, but he opened his eyes on a high sense of alert, immediately checking to see if Dean was okay, before looking back at the room that help Sam. He started to rise as he saw a flash of movement in the darkened doorway, but stopped and relaxed his stance when a mop haired head inched it's way around the door frame, and wide eyes peeked from beneath too long bangs. Sam had never ventured this far from his bed before, and John was at a loss. Not knowing what to do for the best, not knowing if any action would scare his youngest and have him bolting back to his bed, John chose to do nothing, choosing instead to sit back in his chair and continue his watching of the flames, yet still keeping an eye on what Sam was doing.

He felt his heart pound in joy and hope, as after a few minutes Sam crept his way through the doorway, his still too thin frame so small in the sleep clothes Caleb had bought for him, and slid his way down the wall to the floor; could he dare to believe? He tried to act as normal, tried to remain calm even though he wanted to rush up to his son and grab him in a strong and loving embrace. He gripped the arm of the chair, and forced himself to keep watching the flames, trying desperately to ease the excitement that was buzzing inside of him, not wanting to scare Sam off in any way. After a few minutes he heard the soft brush of fabric across the wooden floors, and the pat of bare feet. His excitement getting the better of him, he risked a quick glance, his smile dropping as the space where Sam had been now stood empty. He started to turn back, his hopes dashed but not yet crushed, it was a start. The slightest scrape of wood on wood had him turning back in an instant.

He looked around, trying to look uninterested and calm, when in actual fact he was anything but, his eyes failing at first to see his son anywhere. When the scrape of wood happened again, his hunters instincts fixed it's position. He turned back, but this time he picked up his journal, and with a small adjustment, positioned himself so that he could watch Sam from above the book. Those wide, slightly fearful eyes watched him closely from beneath the table his son now sat under, one of the large dining chairs hiding most of him from sight. Turning a page of the book, John forced himself to wait again, and after a few minutes his smile grew even bigger as he heard the chair move, and the pat of feet cross closer once again.

He didn't need to look this time, he knew Sam was behind the sofa that Dean still lay sleeping upon. He didn't react as his small son's head popped from around the back, only to quickly retreat as he saw John's eyes upon him. John dropped his gaze, pretending to read, yet glancing every now and then from beneath his lashes, watching as Sam slowly gained confidence and moved his body slowly around the sofa, climbing up by his brother's feet and curling up into the smallest ball; his eyes, at first, alert and constantly moving, looking for the first sign of danger. Slowly as time passed, John could see his son begin to relax, his eyes seeking out the flames just as his Dad had earlier.

John watched as exhaustion started to take hold of Sam. Slight shivers wracked his small body, yet his son didn't seem to notice. He waited a few minutes after his baby's eyes finally closed, before slowly and quietly standing and moving his way over. Pulling some of the quilt free from his eldest child, he draped it softly over his youngest, pausing as Sam stiffened beneath his fingers, Sam's eyes opening and warily watching him. Taking a chance he continued to wrap the warmth over his son, before stepping back and sitting down in his own chair. He could see Sam's mind processing what had happened, could see the fear and uncertainty written across his features, could see in his eyes his wanting to flee, and could only sit and hope once again, joyous when after a few tense minutes Sam allowed himself to relax, his eyes slowly drooping until he was asleep once more.

John allowed himself a small sigh of relief. He couldn't believe it, after all this time, after all the days of Sam staying inside the darkened room, he couldn't believe his son was here. Tears began to flow from his eyes, the large droplets dripping down his face to fall of his chin and stain the pages of his journal, but he didn't care. Sam was fighting his way back, and the joy and hope he felt was immense. He looked back over at his son, the quilt now tugged up so that only his nose and eyes were visible, and couldn't help the smile that formed. His pride in his son's soared, even after everything they had the strength to fight back. He turned to look at his eldest, shocked but at the same time not, when he saw his green orbs looking back at him, green orbs that were shining with their own tears.

"It's gonna be okay." He mouthed to Dean, and for the first time he truly believed it would be.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Thank you so much for the support you have all given me throughout 2009, have a very Merry Christmas and a safe, healthy and prosperous New Year. Peanut x**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hope.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Sorry for the long wait for an update, I kinda got sidetracked by another fic, but now that I have finished that one I'm back. As always thanks for stopping by, catch you soon, Peanut x**

John allowed himself to relax into the porch swing as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, warming him. He took a drink from his steaming mug of coffee, and allowed the caffeine and the suns rays to ease the last remnants of sleep from his body. He looked up as the sound of laughter echoed around the small clearing, his eyes coming to land on his oldest son, and one of his best friends, joking around as they attempted to catch supper for the night; Caleb teasing Dean with bait, or picking up the still too slim teenager and threatening to throw him into the chilly water. A smile graced his lips as he witnessed his happy boy, it had been too long since he had heard him laugh, too long since he had witnessed the cocky grin upon his son's face. He waved back as Dean caught him watching and enthusiastically signaled to him, emotions choking him as they caught in his throat, it was just so good to see his child enjoy being a boy for once.

He turned his head minutely as he heard a creak of floorboards to the side of him, the smile faltering, his happiness abating some what, as he caught sight of slight movement within the shadows of the doorway, knowing instinctively it was his youngest son. He knew he shouldn't be sad, to take every day as it came, that the small steps his youngest boy took everyday should be enough after everything he had been put through, but he couldn't help but wonder if they would ever get back the inquisitive child, that he loved dearly. Hell he would never again put down his son's suggestions, never again tell his son to be quiet when his questions rattled from his mouth twenty to the dozen, if only he would utter just one single word to him now. He forced himself to be calm, to not make any sudden movements, even though he wanted nothing more than to scoop up his baby boy again, wrap his arms snuggly around his too thin frame, and hold on for all eternity; but he knew better than to make any rash moves, knew that to do so would result in a shattering of all the hard work they had put in over the last months, all the hard work Sam had given back, and the minute amount of trust his boy had in them would be shattered.

He took another sip of his coffee, his mind going over a plan, but could he take the risk and go through with it, would the price be too big to lose if this failed? He didn't think so, sure it would be a small step back, but he didn't think it would change too much. He decided to take the risk. Without looking around he spoke, his voice quiet so as not to scare his boy too much. "Hey Sammy, do you think you might want to come outside for a bit? Come and see your brother make a fool of Caleb?" He waited a few moments to see if his words would provoke a reaction, not surprised but a little disappointed when they didn't. "That's okay Son, if your not ready, then that's okay. I'll be here waiting for when you are." Leaving it at that, John settled back down and continued to drink his coffee.

Sam listened, from his darkened bedroom, to the sounds of laughter coming from outside, a feeling stirring in his stomach that he hadn't felt in a long time. What it was he had no idea, but he knew he liked it, knew he wanted to feel more of it, to allow the darkness that seemed to surround him constantly to be pushed back by it. He edged to the doorway, his quilt pulled tightly around his boney shoulders, but never able to keep out the bone deep chill he always seemed to feel. Sneaking a peak out into the main room, noticing immediately it's emptiness, and the open front door letting in the bright sunshine to his left, he couldn't help the conflicting emotions that threatened to undo him. One second feeling relieved that he was alone, that the Bad Man wasn't there with him, the next feeling scared that he was, and that there was no one there to help him if The Man came back. He found himself being pulled two ways, one side of him wanting to retreat back into the room, the other side wanting to step out into the main room; the tinkling of the laughter ringing once again from outside, made his mind up for him. He stepped into the room, and crept his way down the walls towards the front door.

He stopped as his eyes burned from the light, and pulled from under the quilt the dark glasses the Blond Boy had given him, the lenses massive on his gaunt face, but doing the job of keeping the light away from his still sensitive eyes. He kept to the shadows once there, and slowly dropped to the floor, watching the Blond Boy and the Tall, Safe Man playing about near the water. He moved as his boney frame began to protest sitting on the hard wooden floor, stilling instantly as the boards creaked beneath him, his heart thudding in his chest as thoughts of The Man entered his mind. Flee, flee, flee, flee, his mind screamed at him, but he just couldn't seem to make his limbs move. He froze as he heard a noise coming from the porch, his head burrowing further into his quilt in an effort to hide, he started to relax as no further movement was heard, his eyes going as wide as saucers as instead a voice spoke softly to him. The urge to move struck him again, the need to get back to his safe dark room strong, but he fought it down, battled his fears and chose instead to listen.

"Hey Sammy, do you think you might want to come outside for a bit? Come and see your brother make a fool of Caleb?" He knew the voice, knew he should remember who it belonged to, but it just wouldn't come to him. The one thing he did know though, was that he didn't fear it. He peeked out a bit further as the voice spoke again. "That's okay Son, if your not ready, then that's okay. I'll be here waiting for when you are."

Minutes passed into an hour, before he felt brave enough to move again. He reached out with a slightly shaking hand and pushed at the screen that covered the doorway, shrinking back as it creaked loudly on it's hinges. When nothing happened, when no one came to punish him he tried again, holding it open slightly this time, pushing it slowly further and further open as time ticked on, inching his body closer and closer to the warmth of the sunshine. As his feet touched the rough wood of the deck he stopped, allowing the screen to slowly and silently close behind him. He risked a look across the porch, towards where the Bearded Man sat, his body still tense and waiting to flee, but the man stayed still, only his hand moving every now and then as he lifted his cup to his mouth.

They stayed there as more time passed, both wary of making a mistake, so settling on just watching the laughing going on down by the lake, Sam occasionally inching further away from the door. The day passed by, the sun getting stronger, and warmer, but still they sat, until it happened. A joke between two friends, a splash of water, an angry snarl, a dash for safety. He didn't know what to do, didn't know where to go, the body was getting closer, it's outline was different, but he couldn't tell. It was just a shape, a shape that was running closer and closer, cutting off his escape route, leaving him with only one option. He looked at the man, could see his lips moving, but couldn't hear the words above the thudding of his heart. His arms were open wide, beckoning him into them, but could he trust him? As the shape got closer though he knew he had no choice.

Gingerly he rose, his quilt falling to the floor as he raced across the short space, and climbed quickly into the waiting arms, his face hiding in the man's broad chest, his body stiffening as arms clamped around him. He started trembling, mumbles falling from his lips as he waited for the pain to start, but all that happened was that strange feeling returning as a hand was rubbed soothingly up and down his back. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself, the feeling intensifying as smells assaulted his senses. He knew these smells, they spoke of love and safety. He knew this Man. He pushed away from the chest and looked at the Bearded Man, really looked at him for the first time. A word forming, but his voice hadn't been used for so long, and refused to speak it, his lips moving but no sound escaping. It was enough though. "Daddy."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . I hope that you enjoyed, will be back soon with more, Peanut x**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hope. **

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Sorry for the long wait for an update, I kinda got sidetracked by another fic, but now that I have finished that one I'm back. As always thanks for stopping by, catch you soon, Peanut x**

John thought his heart was soaring, was sure that Dean who had just run up to the porch, and Caleb who was trailing after him, were sure to hear it thudding violently against his chest, to see it trying desperately to burst out; he thought he had never been happier in his life, that all his Christmases had come at once, when Sam had started inching his way out of the door, but that paled in comparison to how he was feeling at this very moment. His Baby had just spoken, well technically he hadn't, but John was not about to split hairs, Sam had tried to, and John had understood, and his fragile heart has surged with hope. "Daddy." His son's first words after everything he had been through had been "Daddy." He forced himself out of the trance he had been lulled into, forced himself to concentrate back on his youngest child as he felt tremors start to race through his son's body, as his frightened mind tried to understand his lack of response. Looking into his son's eyes, he witnessed the fear and doubt that still resided there, and prayed that one day he would be able to banish them once and for all.

"Sammy, baby, it's okay, it's okay, I'm here and I'm not going any where, I promise." He stated, as his arms once more pulled his son into his chest, hoping he could feel the love and pride that flowed from him. He looked up at his eldest boy, tears blurring the image, tears that he knew would be running down Dean's face also. Opening one arm he beckoned the boy closer, enveloping him also into the embrace. He felt Sam stiffen briefly, as another person entered his space and placed a hand upon his back, felt his head burrow deeper into his chest as he tried to get away from the overwhelming situation, felt Dean's sadness as his brother shied away from his touch and start to move away, only to stop as an arm snaked it's way out of the confines and grasped at his shirt. He watched as Dean looked up with wide eyes, watched as Sam slowly turned in his arms, his thin legs wrapping themselves around his torso, his other hand clenching tightly to his own Tee, his head slowly turning so that he faced his sibling, his mouth speaking soundless words; words that were easy to understand, "De, Don't go."

John's smile increased as Dean broke down beside him, a true smile lighting up his eldest son's face for the first time since this had all started, a smile that radiated from his eyes. He watched as Dean moved closer, his own arm snaking out to grasp his brother's hand, their fingers entwining and clamping down. He watched as Dean turned slightly as something troubled him, his son's other hand reaching out to brush at something on his siblings face, only registering as he did so a wetness growing upon his shirt. He rested his hand on Sam's chocolate locks, his fingers cording through the tresses as he rested his head upon his baby's. "Awwww Sammy, let it all out, it's okay, you can let it all out now." He held on tighter as sobs wracked his son's small frame, pressing his head closer still to his chest, wanting desperately to ease his son's suffering, his fingers still playing soothing motions within his hair, this was the first real show of emotion from his son that wasn't fear, and he was damned if he was going to let him suffer alone.

He started rocking the porch swing, and humming a tune Mary had sung when either child was distressed, pleased when Sam's gut wrenching sobs slowly began to peter out, until only sniffles remained, soon followed by the gentle evening out of his breath, and the gradual relaxing of his body. He wanted to stay in this moment for a while, but knew that the position had to be uncomfortable for his son, so started to rise to take him back indoors, startled when a small whisper emanated from his baby boy, barely audible if he hadn't been so attuned to his son's every need. "No, stay." He felt the tears start to flow anew, felt his heart soar even more, could have sworn the sun chose that moment to shine even brighter. Sam had spoken, really spoken. It might only have been two words, it might have been hoarse and cracked and strained and nothing at all like the joyful, child like, inquisitive voice he had once had, but to John it was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

He settled back down in the swing, excepting the blanket that Caleb brought out to them, thanking the older man as he gently placed it around both him and his children, witnessing the wetness that also shone in the gruff hunter's eyes, and appreciating the space he granted the small family as he backed away. Pushing off again he started to hum once more, placing a small kiss upon both his son's heads as he did so, and vowing to comply, to honor Sam's wishes as another whisper left his son's mouth once more.

"Don't let go."

"I wont baby boy, I wont. I wont ever let go, I promise."

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . Sorry about the short chapter, but it needed to be left there on a happy note. Will be back soon with more, catch you later, Peanut x**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hope. **

**Summary. . . . . . . . . . . He's alone, scared and frightened, taken from his family and left with a man he fears. Beatings and threats keep him here, where all he can do is hope. But is hope enough?**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . . . . I own Nothing, Nil, Nada. They belong to Kripke.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . . .So here it is, the final chapter. Thank you all so very much for all the support throughout this fic, with out you guys and gals I couldn't have done it. I can only hope that I don't let you down now. Peanut x**

John placed the last few items into one of the boxes he had picked up earlier from the grocery store. He quickly wrote on the top before grabbing the tape and securing it for transport. He stood slowly and moved over to the small pile that was growing next to the front door, placing his package with the others before turning back and glancing around the small room, a small room that now held so many memories. They'd been here close to eight months now, living normally, peacefully without the constant threat of the hunt, or the savage intent of deranged humans; his son's slowly, day by day, mending, pushing through the horrors of the past and remembering how to have fun, and laugh, and not fear the terrors that invaded their nights. Gradually they had learned, Dean more so than Sam, but John knew they would never fully forget.

He could see it in Dean's eyes. A maturity beyond his years. A childhood, he himself had started to break all those years ago, completely shattered. Sure he laughed, and joked, and messed around like all teenagers did, but there was always a wariness about him. His eyes scoured a place intensely before he would ever allow Sam to venture there, his senses always alert for any small thing he felt out of place. He followed his brother's every action, fretted if Sam were out of his eye sight for even a second, unconsciously stood before his sibling if he deemed a new person a threat. His every waking moment was spent with, or at least near, his brother.

In Sam, John saw the difference in other ways. Sam, his usually shy, yet happy go lucky little boy; his twenty questions a minute, inquisitive, baby; the child who would willing help anybody who needed it; had gone completely, never returning with them when they had found him all those months ago, lost forever within the darkness of that cold basement. Sam was now a mere shadow of his former self; jumpy at even the slightest noise, or touch of those he didn't trust; freezing, and shutting down completely if strangers approached him; clinging to Dean, or himself for dear life, whenever a nightmare struck, refusing to let go for hours afterwards, until weariness from too many shed tears sent him into a fitful sleep. He immersed himself in books, something he had done to a lesser extent in the past, but now more so than ever. Shutting himself away and hiding himself in the lives of the heroes he read about. He spoke rarely, most of the time only when spoken too first. He lived, but only enough to exist. The only time that changed was when Sam could see his actions were hurting his family.

John dropped the box back down, and wondered if he was making the right decision to leave, wondered whether they should stay longer. He'd spoken to his children last night about moving on, and it being the right time, Dean agreeing straight away, always the good soldier, Sam more reluctantly so, but now he had to wonder if his youngest was truly ready, had to wonder if Sam had only agreed to make them happy. He ran a hand across his bearded face, the grey within the brown, now more prominent than ever. He looked over at the doorway to the small bedroom the boys shared and remembered his sadness and anger as they witnessed for the first time the true extent of the damage done to Sam; he remembered all the nights after that first one, where he had sat close, but not too close and prayed for his son to fight back; he remembered his joy, and his soaring heart, the night Sam finally took a giant step to recovery and left the room. He didn't think he would ever feel happier.

He turned and looked out through the open front door, and to the corner of the porch swing he could see, and remembered the even greater sense of joy and happiness he felt the day Sam ventured outside, and his small family was once more complete. He remembered the tears that Sam had shed, tears that had fallen frequently since then, and the first soft words that had pierced his heart so. He remembered watching as darkness fell, unable to move for fear it would upset the fragile balance they were teetering on, but in the end having no choice, as the warmth of the day was replaced by the chill of the night. He'd thought that Sam would have wanted to return to the room him and Dean shared, but his youngest had surprised them both by refusing, instead pointing over to the small coach, where he and his brother had spent the rest of the evening watching crappy television, bundled together beneath a thick quilt.

John had thought that would have been the turning point in Sam's recovery, he should have known things would not have been that easy. He struggled each day with tasks that normal children took for granted, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, even eating created problems; Sam unable to grasp that he had to do the first two; and forced down everything that was put in front of him food wise, even if he hated it, his mind still caught back in those horrid days when food was few and far between, but all his efforts resulted in, was him vomiting it all back up as his stomach couldn't hold the vast amounts. Every time he was sick John or Dean was there to comfort him, but there efforts were wasted as Sam withdrew into himself for fear of being hurt.

They'd started limiting his food once they figured out what was happening, supplementing his meals with healthy protein shakes in an effort to replace the weight that he had lost. Slowly as the months drew on, Sam began to learn he wouldn't be punished if he didn't want something, that he could ask for more if he was hungry, the weight slowly returning. The only thing they did notice was Sam's new aversion to meat, only allowing chicken to pass through his lips no matter how hard the two older Winchester's tried to vary. They asked often as to the reason why this was, but Sam refused to answer, clamming up if pushed, so in the end they let it go. It was, after all, a small battle to give in to.

John shook his head to clear his thoughts as they drifted back to other battles they had given in to. How they had backed down the first time they tried to go to town as a family, although with time that reluctance had begun to leave. How they had backed down at Sam's refusal to be seen by any doctor, his fear of hospitals now immense. How they had backed down on his strange habit of multi layering his clothes even though it was fairly mild outside. How they had backed down and allowed Sam space, not pushed him to talk about what happened. They had tried, both him and Dean, to get the youngest member of their family to open up, but Sam refused to utter even one word about his time with Jacob, withdrawing back into his bedroom when pushed, refusing to come out. Every time they tried, the nightmares that assaulted Sam would intensify, so in the end they had stopped. As he stood there now, he wondered if he had made the right choice in that one too? But what could he do? Push and risk alienating Sam altogether?

He turned and headed for the open doorway as the sounds of laughter filtered through, standing in the entrance as he watched his boys. Today must be a good day, he figured, as he watched Dean and Sam play wrestle upon the sandy shore of the lake, smiling to himself as he watched Sam allow himself to relax. He was about to intercede, to break them apart as it seemed Dean was taking things too far, going at it harder than John thought necessary, but he stopped with one foot on the porch as Sam played a move John had never seen before and quickly gained the upper hand, pinning down his older, more experienced, and heavier brother with ease, leaving Dean with no choice but to tap out.

John chuckled to himself before shouting at the boys to start getting ready, ruffling each of their hair as they passed him to go wash up. He looked out over the lake, saying his own goodbye and thank you as his mind was finally made up. He might never know what had truly happened to Sam. Might never find out the horrors he lived through. But that didn't matter, it was in the past, and they had to live for the future, and with both his children by his side, the future to John looked very rosy indeed.

The End.

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . .I know, I know, some of you will want a more in depth look at Sam's recovery, but this was always the ending I had envisioned. To answer one question that I think may crop up, just like Kripke has a habit of doing, I killed Jacob off story. Left him to die in the box he tormented Sam with, before Caleb salted and burned him. If you have any other questions please ask, and I'll try to answer. Will now go back and finish When The Past Comes Back To Haunt you, before finally starting a sequel to The Plantation House, catch you later, Peanut x**


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